


or remain unsaved

by Katbelle



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/pseuds/Katbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happened. A lot, a lot happened. He needs to remember what happened. It's important that he remembers this right.</p><p>
  <em>"You can't control me," Matt tells Killgrave.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Killgrave smacks his lips. "It's not <em>you</em> that I'm controlling tonight."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	or remain unsaved

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [or remain unsaved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040792) by [cryogenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenic/pseuds/cryogenic)



> Written for [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=7482270#cmt7482270) at the kink meme. Sadly no gunplay made it in. Sorry, OP.

**or remain unsaved**

_You save yourself or remain unsaved._  
Alice Sebold

***

It starts with a scream.

 

 

The water is hot and then cold and it's still not enough to get _clean_ and he screams. No, that's not right. He screamed before, before the water, before the cold and the hot, he screamed himself hoarse _before_.

There was pain and he screamed.

But--a girl. There was a girl. A girl screamed. He remembers there being a girl. She was the one who screamed and he was the one who heard.

"He's not doing anything he doesn't _want_ to do," he reminded him gently.

It's important that he remembers this. It's important that he remembers this _right_.

What happened to the girl?

 

 

"Call me when you get back home, I need to know that you're okay. Promise me, Matt. _Promise_ ," Foggy tells him.

"Yes, mother," Matt says, with a smile.

"I'm not your mother," Foggy huffs. "A mother you'd respect. I'm your constantly worried superhero's girlfriend at best."

Matt grins. "No, you're _the_ best."

 

 

Then there's a scream. A girl screams, then begs, for mercy, for him not to do it, for him to stop, finally for him to just let her die.

No, wait. No. That was later, that was much, much later.

That was _him_.

 

 

Then there's a scream. A girl screams, terrified. She's in an abandoned building at the end of the block and he goes to check it out. He runs to help her, he runs to save her, because what good is he if he can't.

And inside he is waiting, he's waiting and then there's pain and blood and he screams--No, but wait, it was the girl who screamed, not he--But he screamed too, only later, later still--

Inside he's waiting, but not at first.

 

 

A girl screams and he rushes to save her, only there's no one inside the building, not at first. But then there he is, waiting, and he sounds pleased, he sounds happy, he sounds excited.

"Always so predictable," he sneers and laughs. At Matt, he laughs at Matt.

Killgrave. Matt knows him. Matt's met him, Matt knows about him, he knows what he does, he knows Jessica, he knows what Killgrave likes to do to girls. He has to save that girl who screamed.

What happened to the girl?

 

 

"You can't control me," Matt tells him.

Killgrave smacks his lips. "It's not _you_ that I'm controlling tonight."

 

 

"Please stop," Matt begs.

"I don't want to stop," Frank replies and tightens his grip on Matt's hip.

 

 

The water is cold.

"Matt, you're freaking me out, what the hell happened?"

 

 

But that was later. He's confusing the chain of events again, that's no good, he needs to be sure about causation, it's important, it's important that he remembers this right.

 

 

"Always so predictable," Killgrave sneers and laughs. At Matt, he laughs at Matt. Then he turns to someone standing next to him, "you did well, that was perfect." He hands something to a young woman, probably a college girl, she smells faintly of cheap perfume and cheap booze and library dust. "Here, take this, go and get yourself something nice. Maybe a cute pair of shoes."

"I'll get a cute pair of shoes," the girl says happily. She takes that something from Killgrave — money, he's handed her money — and then leaves.

It's a trap. Of course it's a trap.

"You can't control me," Matt tells Killgrave.

Reminds him. He's tried controlling Matt before and it never worked, not like it did with Jess, not like it did with everyone else — Matt resisted him, he's always resisted him, has always been able to.

Killgrave smacks his lips. "It's not _you_ that I'm controlling tonight."

He snaps his fingers and a new person enters the room. He smells of gunpowder and cigarettes and an annoying cologne and Matt knows him.

"Frank."

 

 

So that's what happened to the girl.

Isn't it?

 

 

It was a trap. Why didn't he fight Killgrave?

Why didn't he leave?

 

 

"If you try anything," Killgrave tells him when he enters the room, and his heartbeat is steady so he's not lying, "if you try fighting, our dear Stacy here will go kaboom. Won't you, Stacy?"

"Kaboom," the girl repeats. She waves her hands in a gesture that generally means an explosion.

"So I'd advise you to drop your clubs," Killgrave says and Matt does obediently. The girl's heart is racing, she's terrified, even if she doesn't consciously know it, or why. "Always so predictable," Killgrave sneers and laughs.

At Matt, he laughs at Matt.

 

 

So that's why he didn't fight. Why he didn't leave.

It wasn't very smart of him.

 

 

And then there was Frank.

 

 

"You can resist him," Matt tells Frank as he dodges one punch, but doesn't manage to miss the other. It lands close to his kidneys and knocks the breath out of him. "Frank--you're stronger--"

"He really isn't," Killgrave says, sounding bored. "Not everyone's _you_."

 

 

It _hurts_. It hurts more than anything he has ever known.

"Please stop," Matt begs.

"I don't want to stop," Frank replies and tightens his grip on Matt's hip.

"You know he's not lying," Killgrave says, pleased again.

 

 

But it didn't go quite like this, did it. He's missing something. He's missing something from between.

 

 

Then there's a scream. He screams, then begs, for mercy, for Frank not to do it, for Frank to stop, finally for Frank to just let him die.

No, wait. There was still something _before_.

 

 

Killgrave snaps his fingers and a new person enters the room. He smells of gunpowder and cigarettes and an annoying cologne and Matt knows him.

"Frank."

The atmosphere in the room changes when Frank enters, the air gets charged; Frank seems to almost thrum with some barely contained energy, he's restless and his heart beats faster than usual.

"The Punisher himself," Killgrave confirms. "It's quite interesting what you can learn from him once you get him talking." Killgrave chuckles. "He considers you a friend, you know? His only friend."

"Frank," Matt repeats, trying to get his attention.

"You annoy me," Killgrave says. "You're the only person able to resist me, and I'd like it if you just died. I'd love to tell you to simply walk in front of a train, but alas, I can't. So Mr. Castle here will have to do the job for me."

Frank's hand moves to the grip of a gun tucked behind the waistband of his jeans.

"Frank, _don't_."

"Oh, but he _will_." Killgrave turns to Frank and motions at Matt. "Mr. Castle, if you will? Just like we discussed."

Matt, expecting to have to dodge bullets, doesn't quite prepare himself for the headbutt that Frank starts the fight with.

 

 

"Matty?" Foggy asks. He's bent over him, he sounds concerned and worried and afraid, he reeks of worry and fear. "Matt, you're freaking me out, what the hell happened?"

But that's now. There's still a _then_ that he's confused about, what happened _after_? They fought, he and Frank. They fought. They fought and then--And then Frank-- _Frank_ \--

He needs to be sure about everything. Foggy will ask. Foggy will want to know. It's important that he remembers this right.

 

 

"You can resist him," Matt tells Frank as he dodges one punch, but doesn't manage to miss the other. It lands close to his kidneys and knocks the breath out of him. "Frank--you're stronger--"

"He really isn't," Killgrave says, sounding bored. "Not everyone's _you_."

Matt manages to knock the spare gun out of Frank's hand. The other one he's already kicked far and away. "Frank--"

"I think I've changed my mind," Killgrave says suddenly in a giddy voice, and that in itself is scarier than anything else tonight. "Mr. Castle, if you'd cease...?"

Frank stops immediately.

"I've changed my mind," Killgrave says again. "What's the fun is seeing you killed? I think I'd rather see you broken and unhinged, like our mutual friend Miss Jones."

Matt hates him. And Matt will kill him. Matt'll kill him one day.

"You can't control me," Matt reminds him again. "You can't make me do anything."

"But I control _him_ ," Killgrave reminds Matt in turn. "And I can make him do everything."

 

 

He screams. Then, by the end, he can't scream anymore.

"Please," Matt whispers, broken and hoarse. "Please. Please. Please just let me die."

"Not tonight," Killgrave tells him and makes it sound as if he was doing Matt a favour.

 

 

There's still a gap. Killgrave told Frank to stop, Frank stopped. Then--What then? Killgrave asked Frank something. What did he ask him?

He can't think. He can't concentrate. Foggy reeks of worry and fear and Matt can't concentrate. He needs to. He needs to think. He needs to make sure he remembers this right.

 

 

"But I control _him_ ," Killgrave reminds Matt in turn. "And I can make him do everything."

He cocks his head to the side and addresses Frank, "Mr. Castle. Your friend Daredevil here. Matthew. Matthew, isn't it? What do you think of him? Please be honest."

"Do-gooder," Frank replies immediately. "Naive and too damn principled. He's a good guy, still believes in the best of people, despite everything, despite knowing me. Has the most fuckable ass I've seen."

Matt freezes. So does Killgrave, briefly. "Oh?" he says. "Is that so?"

"His lips are obscenely red, as if he just finished sucking cock. He doesn't even know how damn gorgeous he is. He gets me hard every time he talks and he does that a fucking lot."

"Interesting," Killgrave notes with a leer. "Is there anything in particular that you want to do to your friend here?"

"I want to bend him in half and fuck him, fuck his ass, fuck into him that not everyone's worth saving, that some people are beyond that."

Killgrave's heart skips a beat. "Well. It's your lucky day, Mr. Castle, because you'll get to do just that."

 

 

"Matty?" Foggy asks. He's bent over him, he sounds concerned and worried and afraid, he reeks of worry and fear. "Matt, you're freaking me out, what the hell happened?"

Something. A lot. Matt's trying to piece it all together, to make sure he remembers this right.

It's important. It's important that he remembers this right.

"Matt, please, say something."

He's trying to. It's just--It's just that words form on his tongue but refuse to leave his mouth.

 

 

Matt puts up a fight, but he doesn't win. He never does, against Frank.

The room's bare and there's nothing to bend him over. Frank's only slightly taller than him, but he's much heavier, so he pins him to the floor easily, flat on his front, one of Frank's arms keeping his shoulder down and one Frank's legs keeping his in place. With the free hand, Frank works his pants open and off.

"Please," Matt says. "Frank, please, _please_ don't do it."

Frank stops. Hesitates.

"What?" Killgrave asks.

"Lube and condoms."

"Don't worry about them," Killgrave says nonchalantly, "you don't need them, not tonight."

"Alright," Frank says, flat. He doesn't sound convinced, but it doesn't stop him, either.

 

 

It takes him four tries to push fully inside.

By then the coppery smell of blood is _everywhere_.

 

 

"Matty?" Foggy asks. He's bent over him, he sounds concerned and worried and afraid, he reeks of worry and fear. "Matt, you're freaking me out, what the hell happened?"

He's not sure yet.

Pain. He remembers pain.

Oh yes, the pain he remembers well.

 

 

It _hurts_. It hurts more than anything he has ever known.

"Please stop," Matt begs.

"I don't want to stop," Frank replies and tightens his grip on Matt's hip.

"You know he's not lying," Killgrave says, pleased again.

Frank pants above him, into his nape, onto his back. He likes this. He's _enjoying_ fucking Matt, rough and fast and hard, but not dry anymore, there's enough blood now to ease the way for him.

"He's not doing anything he doesn't _want_ to do," Killgrave reminds him gently.

Frank speeds up and Matt prays for death.

 

 

There was a girl. Stacy. Cute shoes. Kaboom.

What happened to the girl?

 

 

First he sobs. He sobs and begs, and after that he screams.

He screams. Then, by the end, he can't scream anymore.

"Please," Matt whispers, broken and hoarse. "Please. Please. Please just let me die."

"Not tonight," Killgrave tells him and makes it sound as if he was doing Matt a favour.

Frank thrusts into him again, blood-slick and panting harshly, excited, _excited_. Then he stills above him and comes, in hot spurts, and the smell of semen mingles in the stale air of the room with the smell of blood. It's only then that Matt vomits, at the very end, when the smell of come becomes too much, when the squelching noises become too much, when the pain becomes too much, when _everything_ just becomes _too much_.

Killgrave just laughs and laughs.

 

 

"Matty?" Foggy asks. He's bent over him, he sounds concerned and worried and afraid, he reeks of worry and fear. "Matt, you're freaking me out, what the hell happened?"

He's in his apartment, in his shower. He--He got home, somehow. He doesn't know how. Somehow. It's all blurry. He can't remember.

It's important that he remembers this right.

Foggy will ask. Foggy will want to know.

Foggy _is_ asking. Foggy _does_ want to know.

He can't remember.

There was a girl, Stacy. She screamed. She was going to get herself a cute pair of shoes. She screamed, but she didn't. Kaboom.

He doesn't know what happened to the girl.

There was Frank, too, and he--And he--He--And pain. There was pain. 

And Frank.

 

 

He's not worth saving, he is beyond that.

 

 

"Matt, please, say something."

He's in his apartment, in his shower. He somehow got home. He tried to get clean, but it wouldn't come off, the smell and the blood. The water was hot and then it turned cold, and he couldn't stand so he sank onto the tiles, sat on the shower floor and it was a bad idea, it hurt, it _hurts_ , but he can't move.

He's still sitting on the tiled floor under a cold stream and it still hurts, and Foggy's there, bent over him, concerned and worried and afraid. And then Foggy is _in_ the shower and is putting his hands on him, is hoisting him up, and Matt tries to get away but can't. He can't move.

Foggy gets him out of the shower and wraps him in a towel, it's warm, it's nice. Matt stands barefoot in the bathroom and then he isn't standing anymore, he's sagged against Foggy because he can't stand. He can't.

Foggy wraps his arms around Matt and Matt lets him, because he can't fight him. He tried fighting Frank and he didn't win, he can't fight Foggy too. "What the hell happened, Matty?" Foggy asks. Matt can hear his heart speed up when he looks down, at the puddle of water that Matt's standing in. It's probably red. Matt can feel the blood still dripping down his legs. "Is--is that blood?"

Matt shivers.

"Matt, we need to get you to a hospital. I didn't see any wounds under the shower, but--" He pauses. Then his voice gets quieter, soothing, he speaks as if he would to a skittish animal he was trying to gentle. "Matt. What happened?"

He knows. But not everything.

A lot, Matt wants to say. He'll remember in a moment, he'll get it right. There was a girl and Matt needs to know what happened to her. Stacy. Kaboom. It's important.

"Fog--" he manages to force out instead. His voice is still broken and hoarse. "Foggy."

Foggy runs a hand through his wet hair. He doesn't mind. "Yeah, Matty."

"Foggy, I--" His voice hitches. It hurts, everything, and he doesn't remember it right. It's important and he _can't _. "I don't think I'm okay."__


End file.
